Lost

  “Just try Sophie, and if it doesn't get any better in, say, a month, then we'll talk and try to figure something else out. Maybe you need some medication for depression, or maybe you need to talk to someone about your issues. Whatever it takes to make you feel even a little better is a good step. Can you try?”

  “Yes...”

  “And I'm here, always. I've always been here for you, and I'll always be here for you when you need me. I'm your mom, Soph. And I'd do just about anything to make you better,” she finally spoke with emotion.

  “I know you are. I just didn't know what to do anymore. I fought with Steven and Kim, and I saw Peter's sister Kara on Friday and I did something really stupid with Steven’s friend Trent,” I said as she raised an eyebrow in question. “Yeah, I was really stupid and it was awful, but I thought if I had sex with someone else I might not miss Peter as much, but it was horrible with Trent and it did the opposite. I was way worse. I felt slutty and gross and used, even though it was me using him, but it was awful, and not something that would've ever happened between me and Peter. So it was just the worst 24 hours since Peter left me, and I didn't know what to do... I'm sorry.”

  “Do you still feel like hurting yourself?”

  “No. And I never really did. I wasn't trying to hurt myself, I just wanted to sleep away the pain and confusion. That's all I was trying to do, I think.”

  “Do you still feel confused?”

  “No, just sad still. And I'm pretty tired,” I admitted.

  “Okay,” she exhaled. “You sleep for a while longer and I'll come get you for dinner. You're staying here and you're not going into work tomorrow so-”

  “No!” I panicked. “I have to go to work. I swear it's good for me. I'm distracted at work, and I feel better when I'm working because I'm not thinking about everything else. I have to go to work,” I begged.

  “I really think you should take a few days-”

  “Mom, listen to me. I know what you're trying to do, and you've been awesome with me. You've been great, but I know I'm right about this. I have to go to work tomorrow, otherwise I get all screwed up thinking about everything else. Work is a good thing for me. Please?”

  “You're sure?”

  “Completely.”

  “Okay. Sleep now, we'll eat in 2 hours, and we'll talk about work later,” she said pulling me into a hug. “I love you so much, Sophie. You have been one of the three greatest joys of my life, and I can't imagine a world without you in it,” my mom finally choked up.

  “Ohhh... Please don't. If you start crying I'm screwed. Okay?” I asked hugging her tighter.

  “I love you, Sophie,” she said rising from my bed with a sad smile.

  “I love you, too. Um, I should probably call Steven to apologize for our fight,” I groaned.

  “Not now. Just have a rest until dinner and talk to him later. Talk to him when you're stronger, okay?”

  “Good idea. I think Steven's going to kill me for all the horrible things I said yesterday.”

  “He might surprise you,” she whispered as she walked to my door. “Sleep, Sophie,” she smiled before leaving me alone.

  Once she walked out my door I immediately slept. Even though I had tons of things going through my head, and I was overwhelmed and emotional, it felt like the second my mother closed my door, I was sound asleep until she woke me for dinner 2 hours later.

  Before I went downstairs to eat I did work up the balls to call my brother though. Holding my breath, I was scared shitless, but I called him anyway because I owed him that much for all the horrible things I said to him. I desperately needed to call him to apologize for being a class-A bitch, but he didn't answer to my relief.

  When I eventually joined my parents at the dining room table I remember feeling very small. I felt young and though I was physically smaller than my parents, I hadn't actually felt small in years. But sitting down, I remember the strange feeling of youth wrapping all around me as they smiled and started reaching for all the food.

  Looking around the table, I started to laugh cry when I took it all in. My mother had cooked 4 of my favorite foods all together though they didn't match at all.

  “And chocolate pie for dessert,” my dad grinned as I looked at him.

  “Thank you...” I whispered trying to casually wipe my face with my napkin before I reached for a huge helping of all my favorite foods.

  “Where's Steven? He never gives up the chance to eat mom's cooking,” I asked my dad with a grin, but instead of answering he looked at my mom for help. Turning to my mom I could see she too was struggling to answer.

  “What's wrong? Did something happen to him?” I asked too loudly for our quiet dinner table.

  “No, Sophie. Relax. He's just having a bit of a hard time dealing with yesterday,” she soothed.

  “I'm going to apologize for everything I said to him. I already tried but he wasn't answering. I'll call again right after dinner.”

  “Um... Why don't you give him a day or two?” My dad suggested.

  Shaking my head, “I can’t wait. I was so bitchy. And though he should be used to that by now, I really want to apologize,” I laughed to dead silence. “What? I know I was mean, but I was just going through a bad time, and he and Kim caught me off guard so I lashed out a little. But I'll apologize and we'll be fine.”

  Exhaling, my dad actually sat up a little straighter before he spoke.

  “No offense honey, but you can be a little dense sometimes,” he said as I flinched. My dad had never spoken to me like that in my life. “Steven’s a guy, so he really couldn't care less about you being bitchy to him. But he's messed up right know, so it's probably not a good time to call him yet. He actually can't talk to you right now,” my dad said angrily.

  Turning to my mom, I asked why. Looking at my mom for answers, she also dramatically exhaled and put her fork down on her plate with a clang before speaking.

  “Your dad is right. You are dense sometimes,” she said with a huffed laugh. “Sophie, Steven found you unconscious on your bed yesterday after taking pills. He found his sister- his twin sister- unconscious on her bed hours after you had a fight. He doesn't give a shit what you fought about, but he can't stop thinking about what would've happened if he hadn't gone back to your apartment to yell at you-”

  “I didn't realize-”

  “What?! What didn't you realize? That that might've fucked up your brother? Would it have fucked you up?!” She suddenly yelled at me, as my dad leaned forward to take her hand.

  Exhaling before she spoke again, I held my breath in shock. My mom never swore like that, and she never spoke to me like she hated me. Staring at her, I could actually see she waited for a second to calm down, as I waited stunned by the sudden anger directed at me.

  “Your dad was with him earlier when you were sleeping the first time, and I was on the phone with him the entire time you just slept. Steven is a total mess, Sophie,” she exhaled. “He can't stop thinking and talking about seeing you lying there in a suit with a framed picture of yourself in your arms. He can't stop thinking about you like that, and I don't think he will for a very long time. So I suggest you don't call him until he's better. Steven, your brother who found you yesterday unconscious is a mess. Your brother who thought he found you dead first, then unbelievably alive but unconscious second. Your brother who thought he lost the closest person he has in the world,” she moaned before stopping for a second. “Do you get it now? It's not about a goddamn fight you had, it's about what you did and what he found!” My mother yelled once more as she pushed her chair back loudly from the table and left the room just as quickly.

  She left with me just staring shocked at her exit. She left me shaking and scared of everything again.

  When my dad suddenly took my hand I jumped in my chair. Turning to him he had tears in his eyes, but otherwise smiled a little at me.

  “See? Dense,” he grinned sadly. “Your mom’s just tired and scared and struggling with what you did and with wa
nting to help you but wanting to help Steven through this nightmare, too. You didn't just hurt yourself, Sophie. You hurt us all and you almost destroyed your brother,” he whispered to really make it sink in.

  “I'm so sorry... I need to talk to Steven,” I said even as my dad shook his head no again.

  “He doesn't want to talk to you right now. He's hurt and angry and really just mad at everything. Give him a few days to cool off, okay? Trust me, in a few days the worst of this will blow over and then you two can talk. Please?” He begged me until I nodded.

  “Okay. I'm just going to go to my room to think.”

  “Not until dessert,” he insisted.

  “I'm not really hungry,” I tried.

  “Your mom will kill me if I have the chocolate pie without you. And I need it,” he said so seriously, I actually laughed a little as I stood.

  Walking to the kitchen, I grabbed the delicious chocolate pie from the fridge with 2 forks, and slumped back into my chair beside my dad.

  Handing him a fork we didn't even pause, we just dug into the graham crust and both moaned at how good it was. Digging in deeper, I was repulsed that I could eat so much pie, but with my dad keeping up forkfuls, it almost became a game to see who would give up first. It was a funny, necessary, game of distraction from our shitty little emotional world until he dug into the last bite of the pie we had just finished together and smiled a big, gross, chocolate teeth victory smile at me.

  He smiled, and I laughed as I sat back in my chair with a groan. I laughed but I needed to finish my round of apologies.

  “I'm sorry I hurt you. I wasn't thinking clearly yesterday.”

  “I know baby. Go to bed if you want. I'll tidy up here and we'll talk tomorrow, okay?”

  Agreeing, I stood and leaned into him to kiss the top of his head as I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and whispered, “I love you.” Nodding as he held my hands against his chest, my dad whispered it back to my relief.

  Later, I talked to my mom again before bed and told her I absolutely needed to go to work, until she finally relented. I thanked her for helping me, for our awesome talk, for my delicious dinner, and I told her about the pie my dad and I wolfed down, to her humor.

  My mom insisted on my sleeping there again the following night. And though I tried to give her the 'I'll be okay' speech, she wouldn't listen. She demanded I go back to their house the following night so we could talk about my day, my job, and what I was feeling. She was adamant, so again, I gave in.

  My mom was so kind to me I ended up lying on her bed beside her apologizing again for being so dense about everything, especially about Steven. I apologized for accusing her of putting pressure on me when in reality she had been right- it was always me. And finally, I apologized for scaring her.

  I apologized for everything I could think of until she hugged me and told me to stop. She hugged me tightly in her bed, then told me to stop worrying, stop thinking, and to go to sleep. She told me she loved me very much and that together she and I would get me past this setback.

  She told me she loved me as I closed her door for the night, which was the end of my weekend from hell.

  *****

  Thankfully, Steven did talk to me by the following Thursday when he called me and said he was coming over.

  Thursday night, 5 days after the last time he saw me, Steven came over and ripped the shit out of me for my stupidity, for scaring him, and for breaking his heart. Steven explained what seeing me like that had felt like for him. Then he turned the awful scenario on me until I agreed I wouldn’t have survived something horrible happening to him. He made me see what he saw, and then he cried.

  Steven cried and I died a little inside from his pain. But he stopped crying soon enough, told me he loved me and left me alone in my apartment with the promise to see me the following night for Chinese, which we did.

  Friday night Steven and I talked all evening after work about everything leading up to the previous weekends’ mistake, even the Trent thing and Steven’s need to pound the shit out of Trent, which I admitted horribly embarrassed to my brother was totally my fault.

  I begged him to let it go, promised I would never sleep with another of his friends, and we eventually calmed enough to watch a little TV before he left.

  Kim and I had it out BIGTIME the following Saturday, and I immediately let her off the hook for the pills thing when she asked if it was because of how mean she had been to me that I made my mistake. Exhaling through the tension between us, I told her the truth of that shitty weekend, with our fight only being a small part of the tragic whole, and she and I eventually hugged it out.

  I apologized for everything I said, admitting though she may be a little slutty I never thought of her as the horrible woman I described. I admitted to Kim everything I said was all I could think of to hurt her with because there wasn't much else to work with, which made her laugh at me and my confession.

  Amazingly, Kim and I slowly mended our 11 year friendship over a long Saturday afternoon, drinking coffee in my apartment, until we eventually moved on and put all the nasty behind us.

  *****

  After that weekend, when everything calmed down a little and I eventually took the time to think about me and my relationship with Peter I realized one important thing regarding our breakup- Peter was still stringing me along with his little gestures, and notes. Peter kept giving me hope that he would return to me because he remained tied to me by the notes he left me.

  Almost once a month there was a random note from Peter, until after my weekend from hell I received a little note that changed everything. Opening the note taped to my door, I was stunned as I read his words to me. I read only three sentences, but they were enough to make me continue past all the hurt and sadness.

  Sophie,

  Just live, baby.

  And be safe.

  I love you,

  Peter xo

  Peter wanted me to live, and I would.

  … and LOST

  CHAPTER 26

  If I learned anything from my weekend from hell it was that I was loved, and I had taken many people for granted, misjudging and under-estimating my importance to them. I realized I had misjudged everything about my life after my breakup with Peter because I couldn't see past it.

  So I changed again. I had another personality change- my third in only 7 months, but I was trying every day to find the place I was most comfortable. I was trying to find the place I belonged, because as sad as it was to admit to myself, I knew I didn't really belong with Peter anymore.

  I made a decision to move on, and I slowly did. I focused on work, and I focused on my family and friends. I stopped being a drunken tart, and I started taking a pottery class on Saturday mornings, and a Yoga class on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings.

  I moved slowly, but admittedly, I hurt a little less. Each day that passed became one day with a slight lessening of the pain inside me. The love never left me, but the pain slowly faded to just an ache in my chest that I was so familiar with it barely registered over time. The ache was a constant throb in my heart, but it was no longer an acute agony for me.

  I could actually feel I was starting to move past the life I thought I would have with the man I would love forever, until sadly, I accepted our end.

  Slowly, I was no longer quite as robotic, but I was still just a little lifeless as I made my way through the months since my bad weekend.

  I was doing well at work, and I had pieces of pottery all over my home, at my parents’ house, and tragically covering every single surface at Steven's place. I was becoming the pottery queen of the village in only 4 months. It was even a joke between me and my instructors that I created and finished a piece every single time I walked into the studio compared to the others who could spent multiple classes or even weeks getting just one piece right.

  I didn't care about my successful creations though, I just had to sell them or give them away quickly because I ran out of room everywhere else. I didn’t
care where they ended up, I just needed to keep working on my crafts to kill my time alone.

  I rented space at the studio so I could work on my stuff anytime I wanted, which quickly became every Friday night after work, and all day Saturday. I became obsessed with pottery and I was really good at it, too. My mom even joked that I had finally found a beautiful outlet for being so intense, methodical, and driven.

  After a few months, one of my friends at the pottery studio even found me a small used kiln to purchase which kindly my parents allowed me to put in their basement after they promised to show me their electric bills before it arrived and then after. I made them promise to let me pay the difference because pottery was my new little obsession, and reluctantly they agreed.

  Over a few months, I slowly became content again with my simple life.

  I worked all week and I made everything I could with clay. I perfected beautiful bowls and I experimented with glazing techniques quite successfully. I made cute sets of 4 colored mugs with little spoons inverted into the handles to sell at the cafe in the village, and my beautiful bowls were sold at Pandora’s, in the Pottery studio, and at a store near my parents’ house.

  My set of 4 brightly colored mugs with spoons sold every single weekend, and I was behind a set always, which was kind of stressful, but awesome at the same time.

  I loved that my stuff was so well received, and by November, the cafe actually placed an official order for 10 sets, which I couldn't possibly have ready before their Christmas rush, but I tried hard to fill the order.